Trials and Tribulations
by Technicolourful
Summary: Harry Potter has always lived a life of excitement, but now, one year after the war, he just wants to be left alone. Turning down the offer to become an Auror, Harry spends his time repairing Hogwarts and attending Death Eater trials. However, when mysterious deaths start to make the papers, Harry has to decide whether he wants to fight again. Eventual slash.
1. Greyback

**(A/N) I am attempting to rewrite the chapters that I had already put up before I start writing new ones. I am not very reliable, so we'll see how long that lasts. Reviews are always appreciated.**

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Harry sat stiffly on a hard bench, breathing heavily. It was hot, despite the cooling charms placed on the room, and the cloak was stuffy. He looked around himself for the first time, taking everything in. It was strange, he thought to himself, how different the courtroom was from the last time he had been there, and how it was also almost exactly the same. Anyone who entered the room for only a few minutes wouldn't notice the difference. He did, though. It was hard to forget this room.

Harry had been in the courtrooms only a few times before the war, and then it had been mainly through another mans' memories. Still, the subtle differences were striking. The high chair that had once been occupied by Umbridge was now Kingsley Shacklebolt's. The dementors that had lurked in the dark corners were gone, replaced with surly guards. Harry supposed the biggest difference was the fact that the courtrooms were again being used for their intended purpose.

He glanced around at the other occupants of the room, noting that he knew barely anyone. Some of the remaining Order members were clustered together at one side of the room, and he saw a few people he recognized from his years at Hogwarts. They must be there to watch, just like him. Harry noticed a young girl biting her nails and looking very scared. She was probably there to give evidence.

Harry had also been asked to speak at the trial (well, all the trials, actually) but he had refused on the principle that if the Wizengamat needed his testimony to prove the guilt of the criminals then they weren't doing their job properly.

Harry was rather sick of all the attention he was getting lately. It had been bad in his school days when he was just the Boy-Who-Lived. But now he was the Boy-Who-Defeated-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (which was a much longer and inconvenient name as well) and he was getting annoyed at all of the wizarding populating fawning over him. However, Harry was genuinely interested in watching the trials, as he wanted to personally see every Death Eater convicted. He was willing to testify if there seemed the smallest of chances that one would get off, but he very much doubted that would happen. At the moment, he had resorted to wearing his invisibility cloak so that he didn't get all the stares that accompanied his presence.

Today the trial was for Fenrir Greback. Harry was especially pleased with this, since Fenrir was extremely dangerous, with or without a wand. The increased muttering at the front of the benches alerted Harry of Fenrir's entrance. He was followed by two Aurors who pointing their wands at him while keeping a safe distance. Harry thought for a brief second that he could have been one of those Aurors, but then remembered all the reasons why he wasn't.

No one seemed to understand that Harry was done with fighting. He knew that now that he had saved wizarding Britain once, he was probably expected to do it again should the need arise, and Harry was prepared for that, but he was not going to do any unnecessary fighting. At the moment he was content with doing his part by helping to repair the damage done to Hogwarts. This provided him with free room and board and the added plus that all the teachers and repairmen knew him well enough to not act like they were in the presence of a god.

Harry's decision had not pleased many people. Ron and Hermione tried their best, but they just did not understand. Hermione had attempted to use very strange logic to convince him: "but Harry, don't you _want_ to help people?" Ron had told his pragmatic view on the subject many, many times: "you have to be Auror; you rid the world of You-Know-Who!"

Harry had told them both repeatedly that he was not interested in being an Auror, and being the friends they are, they stopped bothering him… mostly. Ginny, however, had not been as accepting. She made it clear that one of the reasons she liked him so much was his hero complex, and she was thoroughly disappointed in him and his decision. They had had a rather large fight after he informed her that he had made up his mind, and they broke up.

The trial was now starting, and Kingsley began to speak. Normally, the Grand Mugwump of the Wizengamat would lead the trial, but as Kingsley was the Minister of Magic and a member of the Order, it was decided that he should preside over all the Death Eater Trials. On Kingsley's left a thin, red haired man began to take notes, looking harried and writing feverishly.

"Fenrir Greyback, you are here on the 24th of August for being a suspected Death Eater supporter," began Kingsley. Harry noticed how he narrowed his eyes at the word 'suspected' as well as how Greback snarled at the word 'supporter.' Harry knew that he would have liked to be more than a supporter.

He was sitting in the stone chair in the middle of the room, and at his snarl the chains clinked around him, securing his arms. Kingsley continued.

"We have many witnesses who claim to see you in the act of harming others in the name of Voldemort." Greback hissed at the name. Some of the Death Eaters still refused to say it, instead calling him He-Who-Will-Return. Obviously some of the Death Eaters were in denial. "The first witness, Jenna Hartfor, says that she saw you murder her family." The thin girl who Harry had noticed earlier stood up, shaking a little. Everyone turned to look at her. Kingsley gave a little nod of encouragement.

"He…he came into our house, and mother said to…to hide, so we did. Then he cornered her and papa in the room we were hiding… hiding in. He k-killed mother and papa in front of us, and Mary jumped out and she hexed him pretty bad, but then… then he killed her too. He said…" here she paused, taking in a deep breath, "he said 'the Dark Lord m-makes those unworthy pay.' And he put up the Dark Mark and left." Jenna broke into sobs and sat back down. A dark haired man patted her on the back, comfortingly.

"Jenna, are you sure the accused was the man you saw that night?" Kingsley asked, quietly. She nodded, crying too hard to reply.

Kingsley turned back to face the werewolf, muttering a spell. "Do you deny this happened?" Greyback shifted uncomfortably as he felt the enchantment wash over him.

"No," the disgusting man said with relish, "and they got what they deserved, little mudbloods-" Shouting broke out among those watching, and Kingsley raised his hands commandingly, silencing everyone. A small gold circle formed over Greyback's head indicating that he had told the truth.

The rest of the trial proceeded in much the same way, with witnesses taking turns to tell their gut-wrenching tales of death and destruction. Some were horribly gruesome: "and then he bit off me mum's arm, and he was laughin' like it was a joke or summit." Others were quick unemotional blurbs: "yeah, he comes to my house and he kills my kids, but I got him, that dirty bastard. Got him good right in the eye, didn't I?" They were all extremely sad stories of dying families and bitten children and the marked increase in the amount of werewolves.

Greyback was amazingly complaint, only lying when asked if he had been placed under the Imperius Curse. When he said yes, a red circle appeared over his head and Kingsley once again had to silence the onlookers. When the trial ended with a guilty verdict, he rose from the chair, laughing.

"You all just wait. He will return, and you will be very, very sorry." Kingsley just nodded at the Aurors, who escorted him out of the room. Greyback would be taken to Azkaban where he would be placed in a high security cell. Even though there would be no dementors to guard him, Harry was quite sure that he would not escape.

Harry left the courtroom feeling very satisfied.


	2. Animus Anima

**(A/N) Another updated chapter. I changed a few things around, which I hope make the story a bit better. Thanks for reading, and reviews are always appreciated!**

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After Harry left the Ministry of Magic, he apparated directly back into his room at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had taken down all the wards temporarily, since there was such a large amount of people entering and leaving the castle on a daily basis. There were three groups of repairmen who worked at Hogwarts. Besides the normal repairmen, who helped to rebuild the castle, there were spell-casters (who re-spelled all the enchantments that had been destroyed) and sculptors/painters (who retouched the destroyed statues and portaits). These repairers formed a rather large group, about three thousand in all, but only about five hundred lived at the school. The rest would apparate to the school when they were needed.

It wasn't just the repairers who apparated to the school. Hogwarts had become a place of mourning for those who lost family and friends during the Second Great War. Just inside the Great Hall there was a large bronze plaque that listed all the dead, and people had taken to leaving flowers and gifts underneath it. Although it had been charmed so that it was smaller than necessary, but still fit all the names, the memorial beneath it took up a lot of space. Recently Professor McGonagall had taken to encouraging mourners to leave mementos underneath the other memorial, as once school began there would be no space. The other memorial was at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was a large statue that was charmed so that if one were to look at it, it would show a loved one that they had lost in the war. Harry tried to avoid this particular statue, as it changed every time he ventured near. The first time he had seen it, Remus had been staring down at him, tried and sad. The next time, where Remus had been, was Fred, laughing at some unknown joke.

Needless to say, many people found Hogwarts a good place to mourn, and no one wanted to close of the grounds. This provided a small nuisance for Harry: if he happened upon a random stranger, they would often gasp and say, "You're Harry Potter!" This, of course, was utterly ridiculous, since Harry knew perfectly well who he was, and did not need to be reminded. Luckily for him, Harry was a spell-caster/general repairs type of person, so he was allowed to stay in the upper levels of the school and avoid all visitors.

Harry's room was small, but cozy. He had a nice fire crackling in the grate, and a comfortable green armchair. He really liked that chair, because when he sat in it he would sink down a few inches and be engulfed by green fabric. On both sides of the fireplace, Harry had shelves of books, most of which had belonged to the previous occupant of the room, but Harry had added a few of his own.

Harry pulled out a thick, well worn book with a dusty, red cover. It had gold, curly script across the front reading The Art of Animagi. Upon opening, the aroma of old, crumbly pages and ink arose. Harry had (discreetly) stolen the book from McGonagall's office, and was fairly sure she wouldn't notice its absence. He had read and reread the book over and over in the past six months, and was now just studying it to make sure he did not make any mistakes.

Harry wanted to become an animagus simply for a quick escape. If he was being practical, he was hoping to become a bug of some sort, so that he could easily hide anywhere. However, if Harry was being truthful, he secretly wanted to become a stag. Harry had always assumed that his patronus form would probably indicate what his animagus form would be.

Therefore, he was mildly disappointed when the book stated that, "a wizard's patronus and animagus forms are often different. It is important for said wizard to remember that a patronus is the personification of happiness for that wizard, and therefore can change as circumstances change. The animagus for is simply the wizard's personality in animal form."

Harry still hung onto hope, though, and sometimes he would entertain himself by comparing himself to a stag. He thought his list was quite extensive, and he could think of no other animal he should become. For instance, stags were quick, and when Harry was flying, he was also fast. His father was a stag, and everyone said that Harry looked and acted like his father.

When Harry wrote all his reasons down, he felt kind of stupid, since they really only made sense in his head. Still, he thought it was very probable that he become a stag. He wouldn't be upset if he ended up being a fly, however, since it would be lovely to just disappear whenever someone wanted to talk to him.

Having read the book so many times, Harry felt that he was finally ready to being the first stages of the transformation. He had been preparing for weeks now, and he felt that he had a very good grip on the incantation and the process. Tonight was the night.

Harry set the book on the side table with it open to the page dedicated to what he was planning on doing. The chapter was titled "Becoming the Animal" and the spell itself had a short set of instructions as well as the proper wand movements. He said the spell first.

"Animus Anima." After waving his wand in the correct pattern, he quickly set it down next to the book. His animal mind was about to take over, and he didn't want to do any random enchantments. After a few moments he felt the spell being to work and prepared himself. He made himself comfortable and hoped that the next fifteen minutes would not be too terrible.

Harry's first thought was _food_. He needed to go hunt for food, because he would be hungry again soon and he didn't want to be hungry, oh no, he certainly did not want to be hungry. Being hungry was bad. Being hungry was growling stomach and sad eyes and frowny faces in his head. He spotted a fruit bowl and grabbed a banana. It was not very good, but it would do. Harry ran into his bedroom and placed the banana under his pillow. That would keep it safe from anyone who wanted to steal it. Sometimes people wanted to steal his food, but he would not let them. He was proud of his food. He was keeping it. It was Harry's food.

It was early still, but for some reason he felt tired. It was only just getting dark, why was he tired. Well, better sleep now than be tired and unprepared later. He got into his bed. But there is no protection and he wanted protection. How would he sleep without protection? He wouldn't. No protection was angry claws and biting faces and death. He took the hangings down and rolled himself up in them. That would do for now.

Harry fell asleep in his animal mind and didn't wake until morning. When he did, he had a splitting headache and a squashed banana under his pillow.


	3. Professor Potter

**(A/N) A new story. I'm not quite sure how long its going to be, or the exact plot, but I have an idea. No beta, so please be aware of the many mistakes. I rated it M for future language, violence, and other things. SLASH. beware**

**I am now going through and re-editing each chapter before I put it up, so less mistakes...yay! Chapters will be short, because I am in school, and its pretty hard work. I'll try to update every Friday.  
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**And remember, these are not my characters.  
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"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall's sharp voice jerked Harry from his thoughts. "You are aware that Hogwarts is reopening in one week, are you not?"

"Yes, Professor." Harry said, a little guiltily. The headmistress still managed to invoke the same fear in him from his school days; he half expected her to tell him that he had failed his Transfiguration assignment. He turned to look at the old teacher. She was glaring at him, with the full authority of someone who knew how to run things. Her hair was in a tight bun, and Harry wondered if perhaps it was tight enough to put her in a bad mood.

"Well, then finish spelling this door, instead of staring into space." She turned on her heel and marched away before Harry could even manage a "Sorry, Professor."

The reason Harry was staring into space was that he was still considerably confused from the night before. He had absolutely no idea what sort of animal he would become. He had reread the section on the animal minds that morning, and had not comprehended it any differently. Harry had hoped that after he did the spell, he would have a sort of epiphany, and he would know what animal he would become. The book had been very unclear on the specifics.

All he had for clues were sealed hangings, a headache, and a biscuit. He wondered if he would be a mouse. They liked enclosed spaces and food, right? Harry rather hoped not, because that was too close to a rat. Mice were able to hide very well, but Harry was just not fond of them. Their thin tails and long whiskers made him shiver.

He tried to think about what his reasoning for closing the hangings had been. Something about not wanting to fall out.

That was logical, Harry supposed. After all, he still did have the occasional nightmare, and he had fallen out of the bed once or twice. It had hurt, quite a bit. But not enough for him to virtually lock himself in his bed. However, maybe that meant Harry was a practical thinker, like a... like a what? Almost all animals were practical. They were animals.

Harry was glad that he had not headed for water. The book had not said anything about not being to become a water animal, and it would be really terrible if he went through all the trouble to become an animagus and he became a fish. It might be nice if he was in a boat and needed to escape. Or if he wanted to go visit the mer-people at the lake. But other than that, it was useless.

Harry sighed and got back to the door. It was rather tricky, actually. It was one of those doors that sometimes pretended to be a wall. This one was displeased with the state of things, and was being extremely difficult. Harry had tried asking it nicely to become a door again, but it had transformed into a window, and he had no idea how, since it was not enchanted to be a window. The window didn't even show any part of the Hogwarts grounds. It did show a lake, but that was definitely not the lake from Hogwarts.

Fortunately, Harry had learned from Hobbes, another spell caster, the correct charm for doors such as this. The spell-casters preferred not to use unnecessary magic, since it could make the objects in question temperamental. Harry had already asked (very politely) if the door would just do what it was supposed to, but it refused.

A door refuses in the most natural way it can, by shutting itself. In this case, it did not _want_ to be a door, so it just shut the virtual window.

Harry pulled out his wand and cast the spell, "_Janu Estibis_." The window slowly squeezed into itself, and then became a door. Harry grinned at this. Sometimes, the spell didn't work, and had that happened, he would have been royally screwed. "Door Number 572, your job is to open for students when they say, "I would like to take this path." At all other times, you may be either a wall or a door." He waved his wand in the small figure eight that accompanied the completion of the spell, and knew he was done when the brown door become part of the expanse of wall.

Harry glared a little at it, out of spite. He wished the castle would understand that it _was_ going to be reopened soon, and that it should start acting like a school again, and not some reckless teenager. He laughed a little at the thought of comparing Hogwarts to a teenager, but sobered up fast when he realised that that was a valid assessment.

The school had been closed the year following the Final Battle, but no one felt comfortable keeping it closed for any longer, which was why it was important that Hogwarts be completely repaired soon. It would be difficult getting back into the routine, but if they waited any longer, there would be a lot of students in first year.

It was actually almost finished. There were mostly small jobs left, and now that Harry thought about it, many of the problems had been there before the battle.

For instance, if he remembered correctly, that door had always been a window. He thinks that he had tried asking it to let him through once, and it had spit at him. That door was an example of bad spell casting. Or a drunken Hogwarts founder.

This time, Harry saw McGonagall before he heard her. She was walking slowly now, and her tense posture had loosened up a bit.

"Good, Harry, you finished the door. I was wondering if you would accompany me on a small walk." She looked a little nervous, and Harry wondered why. He also wondered why she had used his name: usually she just opted for Potter. He was too surprised to do anything but nod, though, and he soon found himself walking beside her, toward the Great Hall.

"Now, Harry, you are aware of the problem we have had finding teachers this year?" McGonagall asked, her black robes flowing behind her, rather elegantly. Harry felt a bit self conscious about his ripped jeans and T-shirt, but robes were not something one wore when dealing with moody entrances. The first day he had worn robes, an angry statue had taken hold of them and would not let go. It was just better to wear clothes that were less likely to get caught in...things.

"Yes, Professor, but I didn't think it was that big of a deal." Harry said, slowly. He thought they were just missing one or two teachers, positions which could easily be filled.

"Many of the old professors were injured during the battle, and are not fit to work just yet. So we need a few positions filled." McGonagall heaved a deep breath, and then got right to the point. "Harry, I would really like it if you became the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Harry gaped at her. "What? Me, a professor? You've got to be out of your mind, Professor. I'm not cut out to be a teacher." For Merlin's sake, he didn't even like kids. He had been okay at teaching the DA, but those were his peers, not children with impressionable minds. What if he made one decide to become another Voldemort? What if he was like Umbridge? Or worse, Lockhart?

What if he killed one?

"No, Harry, I don't think you are either." Professor McGonagall stated, not sugar coating anything. "But you have so much experience, and it would be good for the students to have someone who played such a big part in the war to teach them. It would only be for a year, two at the most." Harry looked at the older woman, thinking.

He would get to stay at Hogwarts. The students could get used to him. No more repairing crotchety staircases. And it couldn't be that hard, could it? Trelawney did alright. He would just pretend that he was teaching the DA again. It might even be fun.

"I'll do it… But only until the position is filled." McGonagall nodded, looking a little relieved.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter." She paused, and then smiled. "I mean, Professor Potter."


	4. Just Friends

**(A/N) A new story. I'm not quite sure how long its going to be, or the exact plot, but I have an idea. No beta, so please be aware of the many mistakes. I rated it M for future language, violence, and other things. SLASH. beware**

**I am now going through and re-editing each chapter before I put it up, so less mistakes...yay! Chapters will be short, because I am in school, and its pretty hard work. I'll try to update every Friday. I did edit this, but then I pressed the backspace, and apparently that was my computer's cue to go back, and none of the changes saved. I tried to reedit, but I'm sure I didn't get everything.  
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**And remember, these are not my characters.  
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Remus looked at Harry, smiling. The lines in his face were gone, and he looked very young. Greyback was holding a knife to Remus's neck, his teeth bared and yellow.

"I don't forgive you. You killed me. It's all your fault, Harry." Remus said, serenely. Greyback pulled away, blood leaking from his grinning mouth. Then Remus started changing, much like a confused boggart. He flipped through Dobby, Sirius, Moody, Dumbledore, and lastly Snape. Black robes billowing, Snape looked as menacing as always.

"You failed yet again, Potter. You couldn't even save me." And then the man rushed towards Harry, and he woke up, sweating, and on the floor.

So maybe he fell out of bed a lot. He couldn't really help it, this bed was small. Harry got off the floor and checked the clock. It was time for him to go down to breakfast anyway. He went over and opened the window so that early morning light could stream in. It was looking to be a beautiful day.

Harry began to pull on his trousers, and a dark green shirt, which was worn, but was clean and comfortable. It was Sunday, five days since Greyback's trial, and he was still having nightmares. Harry hoped very much they would go away. The werewolf's face was in the papers enough that Harry had no need to see it in his dreams.

He had finished dressing, and was now just waiting for his owl to come. He didn't have to wait long for his ash grey owl, Goblin, to fly through the window. He was a small bird, not as tiny as Pigwidgeon, but smaller than Hedwig had been. Harry still felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of his old owl, but that was pushed away when Goblin hooted for a treat.

Harry untied the papers from Goblin's leg, and then out an owl treat from his pocket. The bird grabbed it appreciatively, and flew back out the window. He was good owl, Harry thought, fast, and smart. He was also easier to hide then Hedwig. The grey blended in easily with foggy Britain. Hopefully, that wouldn't matter, since Harry never wanted to be tracked again.

He looked at the letters that Goblin had dropped off. One from Hermione and Ron, another from Hagrid, who was in France with Madame Maxime, and the Daily Prophet. He dropped the two letters onto his bed, to read later, and brought the Prophet down to the Great Hall.

He reached the Great Hall and searched around for Hobbes, who had been a Slytherin, but liked to "try out" the other house tables. Harry didn't mind really, he was so sick of inter-house fighting. Most of the other workers sat at their old house tables, just out of old habit. Today, Harry's friend was at the Gryffindor table. Harry quickly joined the other man.

"Hey, Alex." Hobbes grinned up at Harry. He was a small man, with dark hair. At the moment he was completely engrossed in his eggs. Harry slid into the empty seat next to him, pulling out the paper, and piling bacon onto his plate.

The front page had a large feature on the upcoming Malfoy trial. Harry sighed. This one he had not been looking forward to. He thought he might have to make an appearance, and he really did not want to. He was glad it was only Narcissa and Draco now: some rather angry people had killed Lucius post war. That happened often, upset wizards killing Death Eaters randomly. It was frowned upon, but so far no one had been convicted of the murders.

The rest of the paper was not as gloomy. Only a few mentions of Death Eaters still on the run, and a few more families killed with the Dark Mark over the house, and a strange article about a muggle killed, with a black snake over the house, instead of the Mark. All in all, it was a good day for the news.

The Prophet had decided that instead of writing about deaths related to the dark side every day, that Sunday would be the "Dark Day" and that way the readers wouldn't be depressed when they read the paper. Harry was actually pleased with this, because that meant if he was feeling upset, he wouldn't have to read the paper and then be more upset.

The Death Eaters who were still being rounded up were making it very difficult for the Aurors. They managed to kill a few people ever month, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it was during the war. And it was getting better. Just three months ago, the death toll every Sunday was about fifteen people, but today it was only six.

"Anything interesting?" Alex asked, in a bored tone. He didn't believe in buying the paper, saying it was a waste of money. Harry shook his head.

"Malfoy trial in two days, on the 31st. And…Lockhart seems to have regained some memory. Don't know why that's newsworthy though." The other man laughed.

"I remember him! Worst teacher I ever had. Some of my friends and I decided to pretend that there was an evil demon in and empty classroom." Alex's blue eyes crinkled at the old memory. "It was just Peeves locked up in a cupboard, but the idiot believed us and went on and on about demon catching. When he finally let Peeves out, Lockhart was bombarded with dungbombs that had been conveniently placed in the cupboard with him." Harry laughed at the thought of Lockhart being covered with brown dungbombs.

"Wait a second. You were at Hogwarts with me?" Harry said. He had always thought that Alex had left the school around the same time as Bill Weasley.

"Yeah. That was my last year though. What a way to go out too, with the Chamber of Secrets and all that." Hobbes scratched his forehead thoughtfully. Harry genuinely liked the man, for all his Slytherin ways. Had he not been told by another spell-caster, Harry would have placed Alex in Ravenclaw. When he truly thought about it, the other man was prime example of a Slytherin. Self preservation, cunning, and all that goes along with that. Thankfully, Alex had not been a pureblood supremacist, and therefore did not agree with Voldemort.

"I'm going to be the DADA professor this year." Harry remembered. Alex looked surprised, and then pleased.

"That's great! I'm staying on, for the extra repairs. I was hoping you'd continue also. Why didn't you tell me?" Harry shrugged. He had honestly just forgotten.

Both Hobbes and Harry had finished eating, so they stood up and left the hall. "Where are you going?"

"Fourth floor," Harry answered, "There's a tapestry that keeps biting people." Alex nodded.

"I'm actually just down there." He said, pointing down the corridor, and then he grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him into an empty classroom, closing the door behind them.

"I only have a few minutes," Harry said, quietly, "McGonagall's been getting on my case about not doing work." Alex nodded, and then roughly kissed Harry.

It had been a few days, and Harry was hungry for the affection. Alex's hands were skilled and they touched Harry in all the right places. His mouth was chapped against Harry's, and they both moaned. This was good, Harry thought. Just what he needed.

They made out for about five minutes before Alex pulled away and left the room, leaving Harry a little dazed. He waited a few seconds and then left also, climbing the stairs to the fourth floor.

He and Hobbes were not in a relationship. They had both agreed that they did not want anything from what they did. They just needed a release, and this was an easy was to get it. Harry didn't even like men that way, really. Alex had said a few times that Harry was not his type.

They were really just friends.

Friends with benefits.


	5. The Potion

**(A/N) A new story. I'm not quite sure how long its going to be, or the exact plot, but I have an idea. No beta, so please be aware of the many mistakes. I rated it M for future language, violence, and other things. SLASH. beware**

**I am now going through and re-editing each chapter before I put it up, so less mistakes...yay! Chapters will be short, because I am in school, and its pretty hard work. I'll try to update every Friday. I did edit this, but then I pressed the backspace, and apparently that was my computer's cue to go back, and none of the changes saved. I tried to reedit, but I'm sure I didn't get everything.  
**

**And remember, these are not my characters.  
**

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Harry sat in his armchair, holding three pieces of parchment. The first was the letter from Hermione, which he had just written a response to.

_Dear Harry:_

_How are you? The school year is starting soon, and Ron and I were wondering if you would be getting a job now that you won't be needed to make repairs. Ron_ _said that there is always a spot for you at the Auror office. He said to tell you that you won't even have to go through training- you get in automatically. I think that's rather unfair, but you are the Boy-Who-Saved-The-World (or whatever you're called, forgive me if I don't keep up with your many names.) Anyway, owl us back to tell us your plans._

_Ron and I are fine. I have found that I do not enjoy being pregnant, but at least I only have five__ more months of this. I can't seem to keep anything down anymore, and I keep having strange cravings. Yesterday it was tomatoes, which I don't even like normally, but I sent Ron out to find some. He has been very helpful, but completely unsympathetic. As usual._

_We would like you to be the godfather of our child. Please say yes. _

_You really should find a wife and settle down. You can't be a bachelor forever, you know. I have a lot of single friends who I can set you up with. One of them, Shannon__, is just your type. She's a lot like Ginny, but a bit less outgoing. She's really pretty, and I can send you a photo next time I write if you like._

_Anyway, I suddenly have the urge to eat a pound of pasta, so I must be going._

_Lots of love_

_Hermione _**and Ron**

Harry laughed at the letter from his friend. He could just imagine Hermione saying all this to him, with Ron adding in at the end, "I agree." He wondered if Hermione knew that Ron had added his name to the end of the letter. Harry thought she didn't, since she did not approve of people taking credit for her work.

Ron and Hermione had been married at the end of January of this year. Four months later, they had announced they would be having a baby. Harry was happy for them, and wished them luck. He knew that taking care of a baby was hard work.

Being Teddy's godfather, Harry had felt obligated to take full guardianship of him. Andromeda had not been happy with that. Her husband and only daughter had died, and she was left alone. She wanted something to do. She wanted to keep Teddy, and Harry had reluctantly agreed on the condition that he got to see his godson as much as he liked.

Whenever Harry visited, Andromeda amused herself by making him do all the chores concerning Teddy. This made Harry extremely grateful that he had not become the baby's guardian. Babies were very hard work, and Harry was only nineteen.

He had just finished up another letter to Andromeda and Teddy. Harry got up and placed the two outgoing letters near his window, so that he could give them to Goblin later. The letter from Hermione was placed in his bottom drawer, along with all the other letters sent to him.

Then he went back to his armchair and pulled out _The Art of Animagi_. He was ready for the second step. Even though he was still extremely confused as to what he would become, he was ready to continue.

He read the instructions and groaned. He had forgotten. He was going to have to make a potion. Shit. He was terrible at making potions. Harry read through the ingredients, making mental notes about which ones he would need.

Dragon's scale. Gryphon root. Mandrake leaves. Powdered Acromantula Venom. Harry wondered how one went about powdering venom. The list was quite long: all in all about twelve items. He would manage, he supposed. Some of those things could be found in Snape's stores, probably.

And then, the brewing time. One month. He would have to wait a whole month to brew this fucking thing. There was a small note at the end. Harry read it and swore out loud. After all that, it might not even work.

_It should be noted that for those who have not learned the art of Occlumency, the potion may not work, as it requires a bonding of the animal mind and the human one._

"Shit shit shit." Harry muttered. "Fucking Occlumency."

"Please watch the language, young man." A portrait above the fireplace, featuring a squat little wizard, spoke.

"Shut the fuck up." Harry snapped at it. Why hadn't he read that earlier? He'd gone through that book so many times, why hadn't he read that part? But of course, Harry had skipped over the potion, saying that he would read the instructions when he needed to make it.

Harry was in a bad mood. When Harry was in a bad mood, he usually yelled at people, but there was no one for him to yell at except for the portrait, and that would not be very satisfying. When there weren't people around for Harry to yell at, he had to resort to throwing things. Sometimes he would throw things and yell.

This time Harry just threw things.

Unfortunately for Harry, the first thing he threw hit a very stunned looking Alex in the head. "Shit! I'm so sorry Alex. Are you okay? Please be okay. I'm sorry." He said very quickly. Alex just stood there rubbing his head, and staring at a bent _Art of Animagi_.

"Why are you throwing books on how to become an Animagus?" Alex asked, walking into the room, and shutting the door behind him. Harry shrugged sheepishly.

"Er…Well, I was rather… angry, and it was within reach." He offered up the excuse, pitifully. Alex didn't look convinced.

"Why was this one in reach?" Alas, the Slytherin cunning was coming through.

"I was…researching it...for classes." Harry said, slowly. He knew Alex wouldn't buy it, but hoped the other man wouldn't ask. He didn't and Harry was grateful.

"Shall we…?" Alex asked, motioned towards Harry's bedroom. Harry just nodded. He needed it.


	6. Meeces

**(A/N) A new story. I'm not quite sure how long its going to be, or the exact plot, but I have an idea. No beta, so please be aware of the many mistakes. I rated it M for future language, violence, and other things. SLASH. beware**

**I am now going through and re-editing each chapter before I put it up, so less mistakes...yay! Chapters will be short, because I am in school, and its pretty hard work. I'll try to update every weekend.  
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**And remember, these are not my characters.  
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Harry woke up beside Alex, who was still fast asleep. He got out of bed quietly, and put on his clothes. Alex stirred when Harry sat down beside him again. Harry poked the sleeping man.

"Hey," he whispered. "Gotta get up." Alex turned, and rubbed his eyes, blearily. Harry smiled down at him. Alex really was a very good looking man. His hair was straight and long, and it hung in his eyes. He had side swept bangs, which at the moment were thoroughly disheveled. He didn't have rock hard abs, but he had a nice figure.

Alex caught Harry staring and grinned. "Like what you see?" He said, in a suggestive tone. He waggled his eyebrows in a comical way, and Harry laughed.

"I wouldn't be shagging you if I didn't." Harry leaned down and kissed Alex lightly. "Get up, so we can go down to breakfast. And don't do what you did last time, I think Tim almost had a heart attack." Alex just laughed, and began dressing.

Last time they had gone to breakfast together, a few of the other workmen had looked strangely at them, but it wouldn't have been a big deal if Alex hadn't started winking at all of them. One of the crew, Tim McKinley, had practically fallen out of his chair at the gestures. Harry supposed he was either extremely turned on, or extremely horrified.

Harry hadn't officially come out yet, either, and he didn't want people figuring it out via Alex. He would do it in his own time, when it was relevant. Right now, no one cared if Harry was gay or not. Well, actually, most of the witches in Britain did, but he didn't dwell on that.

"So," Alex began conversationally, "What _were_ you doing with that Animagus book?" He was fully dressed now, wisely changing the colour of his shirt so it wouldn't be obvious that he didn't go back to his room. Most of the workmen shared a dormitory, but Alex and a few others got old professor rooms. Harry would have taken a dormitory bed too, but everyone insisted that he have a nice room.

"I just found it." Harry said, annoyed. Why was Alex so damn obnoxious? Alex just sniggered.

"Oh, really? That's not what you said last night." He and Harry began walking downstairs. Shit. What _had _he said last night? Harry thought back. He had been mad about needing to learn Occlumency and he had thrown the book at Alex. Then he had said it was lying around and he… needed it for classes.

"Well, I found it, and decided to use it for classes." Harry said, smugly. Alex wouldn't outsmart him this time. Which he usually did. Alex was extremely smart: he had gotten eight NEWTs, and was always flaunting it.

"Are you sure?" Alex drawled, grinning. He was enjoying this. "Are you sure you weren't working on becoming an animagus?" Harry shot him a look.

"No." He said sharply. "And if you were to become an animagus I think you'd be a fly. An annoying fly that I could swat." The other man laughed.

"No, I would most definitely not be a fly. I would be a moose." Harry just gaped at him.

"What? How do you figure that?"

"Well, I'm smart, everyone thinks I'm nice, but I can be quite evil. And I'm very horny." Alex said, still laughing. Harry joined in, rolling his eyes.

"Mooses don't-" Harry began, and then stopped. "Is it mooses? That sounds wrong. Mice? Meece?"

"Just moose, either way." Alex said, snickering a little.

"Shut up," Harry shot back, "Anyway, Moose don't have horns. They have…tusks." Harry thought about that for a moment, and then started laughing harder. "_Antlers._ They have antlers."

"Same thing." Alex scoffed.

"What do you think I would be?" Harry asked, curiously. Maybe Alex could give him some insight to his animal. Alex looked at Harry, contemplatively.

"I think you would be a lion. You know, brave and strong and all that." Harry nodded, a little disappointed. Not even Alex thought he would be a stag. He wondered if lions liked biscuits.

They entered the Great Hall, which was buzzing with the chatter of the workmen. Harry and Alex sat down at the old Hufflepuff table. Moments later, the mail came in, and Goblin dropped a yellow envelope onto Harry's (thankfully empty) plate, and flew back out. He apparently did not wish to see Harry.

Harry looked at the letter and sighed. He recognised the parchment and green ink as a Ministry document. Wanting to get it over with, Harry opened up the letter. It was about the trials, he could tell. The Ministry had sent him a letter at the beginning of the summer, saying that they would like him to come speak at all the trials. He had responded with a note saying that he would not attend any. Harry had hoped that that would be then end of it, but apparently it was not.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_As you may already know, the trials for Narcissa Malfoy, her son, Draco Malfoy, are going to be held tomorrow, the thirty first of September. The Ministry is aware that you did not wish to participate in the Death Eater trials, but we feel that this is a case you may want to consider. _

_It has come to the Ministry's attention that Narcissa Malfoy directly helped save your life during the Final Battle. If this is true, then it is of great import that you come speak at the trial. We do not wish to imprison anyone for longer than they deserve._

_Please respond as quickly as possible._

_Humphrey Grant__, Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

Harry stared at the letter and made a quick decision. "Can I borrow your owl?" He asked Alex, who nodded. On the back of the letter, he wrote his response and sent the owl on its way. He would not be needing his invisibility cloak for tomorrow's trial.

"So you're going to testify?" Alex asked, who apparently had been reading over Harry's shoulder. "Why?"

"They helped me during the war. I don't think Draco would have been a Death Eater if not for his father. And Narcissa did save my life. They don't deserve it." Harry thought for a moment. "Well, not as much as most of the Death Eaters." Draco was a stupid git, but he didn't deserve to go to jail for half his life.

He ate the rest of his breakfast slowly, thinking about what he would say at the trial.


End file.
